Taste The Rainbow
by Misgiving Writer
Summary: For every color, there is an emotion. For every feeling, there is a scene. Sometimes these colors blur together and form a story. And, sometimes, they don't.
1. Red

A/N: So I decided to take part in my own challenge. The _Skittles Challenge_ on the _Avengers Challenge Forum_ that I run, to be exact. And, yes, that was blatant advertisement right there. Anyway, my pairing is Iron Man/Captain America and I hope you all enjoy this!

* * *

><p>Steve wasn't a stranger to battles.<p>

As a soldier in World War Two, he was required not to be squeemish. He was required not to flinch when he was in danger or yield when the enemy was too strong. Too stand in the path of fire and not flee from incoming attacks; be they from guns or from powers that, at the time, couldn't be explained. If he did, it could cost his entire platoon their lives.

Now, years later, he was a member of the Avengers. And still, in battle, he couldn't falter. If he did, someone else would get hurt. One of his team-mates, who were more like family to him than anything else, might take the hit. They might not make it. And Steve didn't want that.

That was why he didn't want to dodge the laser that Shirav, their newest enemy, fired at him. But his shield had been lost somehow earlier in the fight and, if it hit him, it could very well knock him out of the battle.

So he ducked it.

And it missed him.

For a moment, Steve thought that they were all in the clear. But he glanced over his shoulder when he came out of the roll and, as the smoke cleared from the impact zone, realized that it hadn't missed after all. It was just aimed at a different target than he'd originally thought.

It only took a moment for Steve to realize that it had pierced through Tony's suit. To see the blood trickling down the ragged hole in the other mans armor. To watch as Tony teetered backwards, his metal suit sparking, and hit the ground.

And, in that brief moment, all Steve could see was red.


	2. Yellow

A/N: Ah, chapter two. And, surprise, surprise, we've got a story in the works! Hopefully, it will be a story that some of you enjoy reading.

* * *

><p><em>Beep.<em>

_Beep._

_Beep._

The machines kept a steady rhythem. They didn't falter, weren't swayed by opinions or past events, and kept track of what was really important. And, out of everything in the hospital, they were the only thing that he was willing to trust. Even the doctors, kind as they had been, told nothing but lies.

Not enough time had passed yet for them to make a decision. To try and tell Steve that there wasn't anything more to be done. That, if Tony didn't wake up soon, then there was no hope of him ever doing so. And their words of how unlikely that would be didn't mean a thing to the spangled man.

Even the other Avengers weren't telling him the truth. They all gave Steve sympathetic looks and helpful pats on the back. _We understand_, they all said, _and it'll be fine_. But they didn't. Not in the slightest.

Their hearts hadn't stopped beating when Tony didn't get back up after Shirav shot at him.

Blood hadn't boiled when Tony's started to flow. It hadn't turned to ice when the paramedics arrived and took him away on a stretcher.

The other Avenger's had been able to focus on things aside from their injured leader. Steve hadn't.

Because, when he looked down at Tony, who should have been up and about and yelling at him for going so overboard against Shirav, all that Steve had felt was fear. And it was swallowing him up from the inside out. Breaking him down while he sat there and waited for what might never come.

And listened to the almost mocking sound of the machines keeping track of the time that Tony had left.


	3. Orange

A/N: Hmm...Got this chapter written up quicker than I thought I would. I'm actually surprised by how much plot is being put into these drabbles.

* * *

><p>At almost five in the morning, the Bethaven Hospital's cafeteria was devoid of customers. There were a few workers, clad in white pants and ridiculously bright yellow shirts, bustling about to get the place ready for the day. One was setting up the chairs, one getting the food-line prepped for the coming hot-trays, and a third was going over already spotless tables with a cleaner that smelled strongly of oranges.<p>

And there was Steve, off to the side of the room, stirring packets of off-brand sugar into a steaming cup of coffee.

These coffee runs, which happened several times a day, were one of the only reasons that Steve ventured into the maze of halls that made up the local hospital. Usually, he was content to just sit in Tony's room and half-heartedly read through the book that he'd brought with him the day after his leader had been brought into the hospital.

In four days, it was one of three times that he'd left the building.

Of course, standard rules dictated he should leave every day at eight o' clock sharp. They also dictated that, as a visitor, he shouldn't have been allowed into the hospital until ten each morning. Those were the Visiting Hours that the hospital had always used.

But who were they to deny Captain America, of whom had saved their walls and the lives of their workers numerous times, anything? It wasn't like security would be able to remove him from the building anyway, or like he was getting in the way of their jobs, so it had just been decided he could stay.

It was easier for everyone that way.

So Steve was allowed to stay and keep a watchful eye on Tony, even if it wasn't really needed.

Keeping an eye on the older man was exactly why Steve didn't stay in the cafeteria to drink his coffee; he never did and today was no exception. So he added a second pack of sugar, threw away the wrapper, and headed down the hall to the elevator.

It didn't take long to get back to the Sixth Floor and to Tony's room, as it was only five down from the elevator.

Steve pushed the door open and glanced at Tony's bed, listened to the _beep beep beep_ of the machines hooked into the man's arms and wired to his chest, before heading over to the hard plastic chair pulled up next to the bed. He was almost to his seat when it registered that a pair of tired green eyes had been staring back at him.

"Steve?" Tony rasped.

And Steve found that, despite the fact he'd planned out a lecture on being more careful and keeping his own safety in mind all planned out for just this moment, all he could do was beam down at the other man.


	4. Green

A/N: I'm just turning these out left and right, aren't I? Well, I guess that's a good thing.

* * *

><p>Before Tony checked himself out of the hospital, against the doctors advice, he had been given a set of strict instructions.<p>

No strenuous labor.

No late nights.

No skipping meals.

No skipping doses of medicine.

No alchohol, which was the worst out of them all.

They were all simple enough to follow, really, if he had only been given one or two of them. Combined, and they were telling Tony to completely change his way of living. It was only for a few weeks but, still, it wasn't a change that he was interested in making. In the slightest. And, if Tony had his way like he normally did, it wouldn't have lasted for more than a day or two. Unfortunatly, things _hadn't_ been going his way.

The moment that the two of them had gotten back to Stark Manor, Steve had instructed Jarvis to 'remind' Tony of the limitations that the doctors had given him. And when it was time to take more pills and have another meal and take a break from puttering about the lab; by now, hearing the AI's voice had become more than a little unwelcome.

But the worst part of it all was that he hadn't had any time to ask Steve what had happened.

Yes, he'd been shot by Shirav but that shouldn't have taken him out. It certainly shouldn't have taken him out for _four days_. And the ache in his shoulder, though it was more of a _burn_ then an _ache_, hadn't lessened at all. Even with the medication and the rest and all of the other orders that he was following, the pain was just as bad as it had been that first day when he woke up in the hospital; which was another question in and of itself, because Tony had never woken up to see anyone but Pepper at his bedside.

It was also still beyond stiff. To the point that it was hard to move it in certain ways. And that, Tony knew from experience, was never a good thing. It wasn't something that a simple gamma-blast should have caused, either.

As of yet, with two days at home under his belt, Tony hadn't been able to grab Steve long enough to ask about it. It was just one thing after the other getting in the way; from some mad-man or another causing a scene in town to S.H.I.E.L.D. throwing a fit over the amount of damage to the city that their battles caused. And Steve, the other Avengers insisted, had to come along to _every _crimescene and _every_ meeting.

Tony didn't see the apologetic looks they gave the Captain, nor did he hear the murmured condolences, but he knew that something was going on. And he _knew_ that everyone but himself had been included in the loop.

And he was getting tired of it.

The Avengers was _his_ team and it was _his_ mansion that the majority of them lived in. It was _his_ inventions they often used, in battle and to get around, and _his_ money that supported them all.

There was no reason for everyone else to know what was going on. There was no reason that he was being confined to the manor. And there was no reason that Steve hadn't explained everything to him yet.

No reason at all.


	5. Blue

It had been three weeks since Steve told Tony what had _really_ happened back in the fight with Shirav. Three weeks since Tony learned the real issues that had been faced, and barely over come, at the hospital. And three weeks since the Stark heir had spoken to Steve.

It was juvenile, Tony knew, but that didn't matter to him. It wasn't like the other man had been all that eager to converse lately; which might have bothered Tony if he hadn't decided to ignore Steve anyway. Completely and utterly ignoring Steve's existance had become his top priority, even being place above repairing his Iron Man suit. And if the other Avengers were getting fed up with the awkward silences that followed the pair around, it was their own problem.

In Tony's mind, he was fully justified in ignoring Steve. If he didn't think it would be too much effort to do so, he could have ignored the entire team. Or just kicked them all out of his manor. They deserved it, the whole lot of them, even if it had been done on Fury's orders. It wasn't like none of them had ever ignored the S.H.I.E.L.D. directors orders before.

And not letting him know that he'd very nearly _died_ wasn't something he could just forgive right away.

Shirav's blaster, Steve had explained to him several weeks ago, had temporarily disrupted the flow of blood to his left arm and the surrounding areas. The doctors had tried everything to get it fixed, because only a portion of the blood flow was actually going where it should have, but in the end there had been nothing they could do. It was a complete and total fluke that the effects of the beam, apparently, only lasted for several days.

It was nothing short of a miracle that there had been enough flow to keep his arm functioning; though even now, Tony's arm would stiffen and catch if he moved it too quickly or too sharply. And, though the doctors still weren't completely sure what had been keeping him out, it was a miracle that he'd woken up when he had.

Fury had wanted to wait and discuss it with Tony on his own, though none of the Avengers could work out why, so everyone had waited. They hadn't wanted too, and Steve had done his best to make sure that Tony knew that, but the S.H.I.E.L.D. director had assured them it would only take him a few days to get in touch with Tony. But he was called off to some other branch of the agency for some emergency or another and hadn't had the chance; still, he expected to have to explain it all to Tony when he returned.

And it was beyond irritating to him that his team would listen to Fury instead of just telling him what had happened. As far as Tony could tell, the only side-affects that he was having from the whole ordeal was a stiff shoulder and an occasional aching fit. It didn't make sense to keep it a secret!

It didn't make sense, when he really stopped to think about it, that Steve was the only one he was 'punishing' either. But it was Steve's silence that had hurt him the most, though even that only made a smidgen of sense to him, and so silence in return was what he would give the red, white, and blue clad hero.

As angry as Tony had been when he was told, the first few days hadn't been any trouble.

Steve came into the room and Tony turned away, completely missing the way that the other man's face would fall.

He tried to speak to him and Tony would get up and leave, not waiting long enough to hear the apologies Steve had to give.

It only took a few days before Steve just left him be, though Tony also noticed that the younger man was doing this by spending more time in his bedroom and out walking in the city.

And that was just fine. Right up until half way through the second week of the two not speaking where, sitting alone in the living room and flicking through old cop shows, Tony suddenly realized how empty the room seemed. Hulk was off doing whatever he normally did when he dissapeared, Clint was on an errand in town, Hank and Jan were at their own houses, as was Black Panther. Just like they always were on a week night when there was no one to be fought.

But Steve wasn't on the other end of the couch. There was no 'fwip-fwip' of a page being turned, no idle question about whatever show was playing at the moment, no discussion going on with JARVIS. Just silence. Silence that had been horribly noticable since then.

Going into the third week, Tony wasn't sure how much longer he could take the lack of noise -of a friendly pat on the back and someone always on his side and of that _warm_ prescence that used to be constantly flitting around the house- before he cracked.


End file.
